Freak
by ibelieveinguardianangels
Summary: Sherlock thinks back to the last time he had suffered because of his uniqueness.


**This is just an idea I had; I thought I'd write a short Teenlock through a flashback. Obviously, there's no John in the flashback. **

**Sorry it's short. **

**I know this seems to be a revolving theme when it comes to my stories, but I enjoy writing it. **

**I apologise about any mistakes I haven't noticed. **

Freak

The detective recognised the constricting pain in his chest, squeezing at his heart; he felt his breath hitch in his throat, a lump sitting there painfully, one he couldn't swallow away. He wasn't a freak. He abhorred that word. He sighed shakily, leaning against the back of the couch, his legs crossed at the knee; he couldn't help remembering the last time he'd heard that word, before the spiteful sergeant, of course.

_Perching anxiously on the edge of the stool, 15 year old Sherlock Holmes watched out of the window of the science lab he was spending his lunch time in, the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows revealing his thin, pale arms; he sat, categorising insects that were inspecting the flowerbox on the windowsill. He turned, readying himself to question the science teacher on whether or not it would be theoretically possible for an insect acclimatised to summertime conditions to survive in winter conditions should it be put in such a situation when he saw them, the bullies that tortured him, standing at the window, staring in and watching his every move. _

_Sherlock's multi-coloured eyes flickered towards the front desk, finding himself alone in the classroom, his breath hitched in his throat as he prayed that the bullies would refrain from invading his safe haven. The science lab was the only place that Sherlock was able to go where he wouldn't have to worry about being teased and tormented; he knew what they were doing, they were waiting for him; waiting for the bell to ring; they knew he would have to exit the laboratory eventually and Sherlock could only assume that he wouldn't be attending his English Literature class today. _

_Sherlock forced his attention to return to the insects; he watched with intrigue as a honeybee hovered, collecting nectar from the flowerboxes on the grey windowsill, but he could feel his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, a sense of panic rising as he became aware that the clock was ticking down, and the safety he had in the science lab would be shattered once the bell chimed. _

_Sherlock's shaky breath hitched in his throat as he heard the echoing cry of the school bell, he risked a glance up, seeing smirks on the faces of the bullies waiting for him; he slowly packed his bags, hoping that they would get bored of waiting or that a member of staff might just happen to appear, but he knew for a fact that it wouldn't work out in his favour. He would have to leave the lab; he would have to face the bullies. _

_The science student etched out of the classroom, keeping his head bowed and avoiding the eyes of everyone in the hallway; he could feel the crowd behind him, matching his step, following him; he knew they were getting closer. _

_"Hey Freak," Hollered a tall, blonde-student the year above him; Sherlock remained silent, keeping his head down; hoping to get lost in the crowd, "Oi," Sherlock staggered backwards as his backpack was clutched by the strap at the top; he found himself surrounded by a crowd of people staring down at him; Sherlock was vaguely aware of voices, yelling at him, hurling insults, be he couldn't make out what was being said. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, he could feel the pounding against the ribs and he could tell his hands were shaking._

_The first punch caught him off guard as it cracked against his cheekbone and he stumbled backwards, only to be pushed from behind, falling into the awaiting fist that connected with his nose; a throbbing pain rushed around his head as droplets of blood fell from his nose, bouncing off the grey flooring. Sherlock gasped as a small, yet strong, fist pounded the side of his head, knocking him off balance of onto the floor; he landed awkwardly, hissing as a pain shot through his ankle. The beating continued; Sherlock curled himself up into the smallest ball he could manage and felt a strong sense of relief wash over him when he heard footsteps echoing, moving away from him; signalling that the bullies had finished for today._

_Sherlock lay there, wanting to be certain his tormenters had gone before dragging himself to his knees and crawling to the boy's toilets at the end of the long hallway, dragging himself up and leaning against the white sink, taking in his appearance in the mirror. Sherlock sighed, his eyes falling on the redness around his face, certain areas bruising, dried blood settled around his nostrils and his left eye was swelling closed. Sherlock knew that he wouldn't be able to hide this from Mycroft, he knew it would be a waste of time to even try. _

_Sherlock's chest throbbed when he breathed and his head pounded as he solemnly dragged himself to the nurses' office, taking a deep breath before he knocked on the door; the nurse smiled sadly at the him, nodding to invite him in. _

_"Mycroft or mother?" Was all the nurse questioned, taking Sherlock's silence as a signal to phone his older brother before setting about cleaning him up as his brother set off to collect him. _

_"Oh, Sherlock," Mycroft sighed as he assisted him into the car, climbing in the driver's side to take him home. "Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock," Sherlock felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. _

"Sherlock?" The detective slowly registered his friend's voice calling to him and returned to reality, coming face-to-face with the doctor he lived with who was regarding him with a very worried expression, "Sherlock?" he tried again.

"I'm not a freak!" Sherlock exclaimed, meeting his friend's gaze and shaking his head.

"I know you're not." John sighed, sitting beside his friend on the sofa, he felt something swell in his chest at the expression on his friend's face. He hated the effect Sally had on him; she wasn't even aware of the consequences of her actions and the way her venomous tongue hurt his friend.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock apologised, rubbing at the tears that rested on his cheeks.

"Don't be." John smiled softly, reaching out and momentarily embracing his friend.

**I know it's very short, but thank you for reading. Please, let me know what you think. **


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